Malfoy and the Mudblood
by Calico Weasley
Summary: What happens when the prejudiced pureblood & mistreated muggleborn are forced to work together? Can they put aside their differences in order to save the wizarding world?
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

A/N Hey, everyone. This is my first fanfic, so suggestions and constructive criticism welcome! A lot of this chapter is basically just a chapter from HBP through a different perspective. I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Harry Potter. Unfortunately for me, the credit all goes to J.K. Rowling.  
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_SNAP!_

I whirled around as I heard the sharp sound echo through the woods.

What was it? An ominous predator swiftly approaching? An innocent nocturnal creature scurrying? The dark forest playing tricks on my mind?

The night was black, and my fear was blacker. I was drenched head to toe in a cold sweat, sprinting as fast as I possibly could through the dark woods… _It_was after me again.

I could tell it was getting closer and any moment now, it would descend upon me.

I ran aimlessly, to nowhere in particular, just knowing that I had to get _away_.

Away from _It_.

Away from my inevitable death looming over me.

I darted in a zigzag pattern through the trees, doing my best to throw it off of my trail. My eyes grew wider as I spotted a clearing lit by moonlight in the close distance. I finally had something to run _to_. I set off, quickly as ever; adrenaline was pumping through my veins.

Now I was climbing a steep uphill slope toward the clearing… strange, the ground seemed perfectly level a moment before. As I climbed, the task got more and more difficult. My arms were shaking and burning with effort and dirt kept falling into my eyes.

The slope seemed to get even steeper until it was as if I were ascending a harsh vertical cliff from the forest ground to the clearing. I looked down to see the ground far further than it should've been— it must've been 30 meters directly below.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of fatigue washed over me; my legs grew heavy, and I felt as though I were climbing through deep, thick mud. I could barely go on— my head was throbbing and my eyelids started drooping. I had just about reached the top, when out of nowhere, a massive hulking beast pounced, its teeth bared, going in for the kill! Its razor sharp claws grazed my body and I felt white hot pain shoot through me, searing from the top of my chest — right over my heart — down to my left hip.

I let go of the edge of the cliff and started to fall to the ground far below me.

I hit the ground with a loud _THUD!_and the wind was knocked out of me. Next thing I knew, the monster was on top of me, pinning me to the ground. It opened its enormous maw, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for death. I could smell the beast's acrid warm breath on my face as it… spoke?

"Master Draco, it's time for breakfast!"

My eyes shot open as I registered my surroundings. The night forest and the monster were quickly fading as the dark glossy walls and silver and emerald hangings surrounding around me grew clearer— they reminded me that I was in my bedroom, on my bed, covered in silk sheets lit by the sunshine streaming through the windows. Hanging directly above my head was a grand crystal chandelier. To my left, right next to my head, was a night stand with my wand laying atop it, and hovering over my right side was my house elf, Topsy, carrying a tray with eggs, bacon, and toast.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, shaking and sweating. I could still feel the pain stretching from my chest to my hip, and my head was still pounding like a hammer.

"Is young Master Draco all right?" Topsy asked, her big blue eyes wide as saucers with concern.

"Leave," I grumbled, cradling my head in my hands.

The elf hastily set the tray next to my wand on the nightstand and with a snap of her fingers and a _CRACK_, I was left in the solitude of my room.

I'd been having the same nightmare for weeks. I picked up the tray and put it on my lap, silently eating as I pondered.

What did the nightmare mean? The more I tried to focus on the details of the dream, the more rapidly I disappeared. The only thing that remained vivid in my mind was the utter terror and helplessness I felt, and the unbearable pain going across my body.

I shook my head to rid myself of the dream. I had more important things to worry about.

Like the task I was about to undertake.

I knew it would be dangerous, but I was not a child. If the Dark Lord thought I could kill Dumbledore, I knew I could. I had even been branded with the Dark Mark! I was the youngest Death Eater in history. I wished my mother would stop babying me and crying all the time like I were about to die or something. Merlin, I hated seeing her like that.

Today my mother would be accompanying me to Diagon Alley for my school things. It really was quite embarrassing, shopping with my mother, especially since I had planned on taking care of some business (for the Dark Lord's task) in Knockturn Alley while I was out. But if going with me to Diagon Alley kept my mother from crying over me, I supposed I had no choice.

I was being fitted for my robes at Madam Malkin's when my mother started getting all  
overprotective and weepy again. She was going on and on about how she needed to be with me and make sure I was okay. I was beginning to grow rather irritated

"I am not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone," I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste.

Madam Malkin, who was working on my robes, clucked disapprovingly at me and said, "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child—"

Madam Malkin was now approaching my left arm and began to pin the sleeve, much too close to my Dark Mark than I was willing to risk.

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" I yelped, yanking my arm away.

I strode to the mirror and examined myself; at first I just saw myself in the handsome set of dark green robes glittering with pins around the hem and the edge of the sleeves. After a few moments, however, I noticed three people reflected over my shoulder, and I felt a surge of nausea come over me. It was the three people who I absolutely detested and who had been making my life at Hogwarts miserable since first year. I narrowed my eyes in contempt.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," I said, smirking at Granger while Potter and Weasley tensed and pulled out their wands beside her. Two against one in the middle of a shop, to protect that filth? Pathetic.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" said Madam Malkin, scurrying out from behind the clothes rack holding a tape measure and a wand. I rolled my eyes. "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" she added hastily, glancing toward the door and noticing the wands Potter and Weasley had pointed at me.

From across the room I heard Granger, who was standing slightly behind them, as she whispered, "No, don't, honestly, it's not worth it. "

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," I sneered. Peering around Weasley, I noticed that Granger had a dark bruise circling her eye. At first I felt a strange lurch in my stomach at the sight of it, but I quickly dismissed the unwelcome feeling with a smirk. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" said Madam Malkin sharply, looking over her shoulder for support. "Madam—please—"

Mother strolled out from behind the clothes rack. Oh, hooray. Mummy's coming to save me. For Salazar's sake, when would she learn I could take care of myself? I certainly didn't need her help when it came to Mudblood, Potty, and the Weasel.

"Put those away," she said in a cold tone to Potter and Weasley. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

I fought the urge to cover my face in embarrassment and tried to hold my smirk in place. Merlin, she was humiliating me.

"Really?" said Potter, taking a step forward and gazing straight into my mother's face. He was as tall as she was now. Whatever. I'm still taller. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

My stomach dropped as I clenched my fists. How dare he speak to my mother like that! He had no idea what my family went through for the Dark Lord! My hand went inside my robes for my wand when Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart.

"Really, you shouldn't accuse... dangerous thing to say... wands away, please!"

But Potter did not lower his wand. My mother gave him a threatening smile.

"I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

Potter looked mockingly all around the shop. "Wow... look at that... he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

That was it. I felt my smirk immediately turn into a snarl of rage as my anger grew. Potter had insulted my family's honor and now he was insulting my father directly! I pulled out my wand and made an angry movement toward the specky git, but stumbled over my overlong robe. Weasley, the prick, laughed loudly.

Heat rushed to my face as a fiery anger bubbled up in the pit of my stomach. "Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" I snarled.

"It's all right, Draco," my mother said, restraining me with her thin white fingers upon my shoulder. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

I smirked for a moment before Potter raised his wand higher. I was about to lunge at him when Granger intervened.

"Harry, no!" she moaned, grabbing his arm and attempting to push it down by his side. "Think... You mustn't... You'll be in such trouble..."

_Ha. Yes, listen to your filthy friend, Potty. With her big brown eyes and "damsel in distress" persona…_I thought, smirking. He was lucky I didn't curse him into oblivion right there and then. Madam Malkin dithered for a moment on the spot, then seemed to decide to act as though nothing was happening in the hope that it wouldn't. She bent toward me, as I continued glaring at Potter.

"I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just..."

"Ouch!" I bellowed, slapping her hand away. She was about to uncover my left arm again! Idiot witch. I was already in a bad enough mood. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don't think I want these anymore."

I pulled the robes over my head and threw them onto the floor at Madam Malkin's feet.

"You're right, Draco," Mother said, with a contemptuous glance at Granger, "Now I know the kind of scum that shops here... We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

I followed my mother as she swept across the room and out the door, making sure to bang hard into Weasley on my way out.

I needed to plan my escape if I wanted to go to Knockturn Alley. Unfortunately, there wasn't much of a crowd in Diagon Alley, so I had no idea how I would get away from my mother.

We entered Flourish and Blotts to get my schoolbooks, and I realized that the high shelves of books filling the shop would provide me my only opportunity.

"Mother," I said carefully, plan unfolding in my mind. She glanced up at me with a questioning look.

"Yes, Draco?"

I cleared my throat. "I'm going to go look for the Level 6 Standard Book of Spells. Could you look over there for… er..." I paused for a moment to look down at my school list. "A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration? Author's name is Switch," I finished looking back up. She furrowed her brow for a moment, then nodded and went behind the shelves to the left, started toward the "S" section. I feigned going the opposite direction and waited until I was sure she was out of sight before hastily turning around and heading back through the doors.

I started swiftly up the street, due straight for Knockturn Alley. As I passed that ridiculously obnoxious Weasley joke shop, I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was following me. When I was sure that I was clear, I broke into a run further up the street. I took a left at the end of it and entered Knockturn Alley.

I paused for a moment to glance up and down the street, scanning the place for the shop I was looking for; I located it quickly and hurriedly walked inside the doors. Once inside the dimly lit shop of Borgin and Burkes, I looked around at most of the various dark objects with little interest. Along the shelves lay an assortment of human bones and skulls, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a milky glass eye. Masks lined the walls, staring down at me with their hollow evil eyes, and several rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Displayed on the counter was a withered hand resting on a cushion in a glass case, and next to it, a glittering opal necklace with a sign that read "Do not touch! Cursed. Has claimed the lives of nineteen Muggle owners to date."

_Hm. Perhaps that might be of some use in the old headmaster's assassination,_ I thought with grim satisfaction at the notion.

At last, my eyes fell upon the object I had come to discuss: a large black cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Borgin!" I called, knowing that he was probably somewhere behind the counter. Indeed, the oily man appeared behind the counter saying, "How are you, young Master Malfoy? Doing well, I pres—?"

"Skip the formalities, Borgin," I said, cutting him off. I didn't have time for this. "This cabinet here," I said, gesturing. "It's a vanishing cabinet, right? And it has a matching pair?"

"That's right," Borgin responded. "But I don't have the mate, so—"

"Never mind that," I interrupted once again, waving my hand dismissively. "I have it. But it's broken. If I told you exactly what was wrong with it, would know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," said Borgin, in a tone that suggested he was unwilling to commit himself. He seemed to become agitated with the way I kept cutting him off. I didn't care. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't," I said impatiently. I spoke slowly, as if the man were too daft to comprehend my words. I wouldn't be surprised if he was, personally. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

Borgin licked his lips nervously.

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

"No?" I said, sneering. I was really becoming rather annoyed with his impertinence. "Perhaps this will make you more confident."

I moved toward Borgin and lifted my left sleeve up over my forearm, revealing the tattoo branded there. To my satisfaction, the mark had had the desired effect on Borgin, who was looking very frightened.

"Tell anyone," I breathed, leaning over him in what I thought was a very frightening and dangerous manner, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for-"

"I'll decide that," I cut him off, pushing my sleeve back over my Dark Mark. "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it," I finished, nodding toward the cabinet.

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it." What an idiot. I'm not about to prance down Diagon Alley hauling a giant Vanishing Cabinet along with me.

"Of course not... sir."

Borgin made a deep bow, and I prepared to depart. Right before I left I remembered. No one could find out about this.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing again.

Sniveling idiot. Feeling rather pleased with myself, I walked back out the door and up the street toward Diagon Alley. I hadn't realized how much power could come from being a Death Eater.

_Maybe this won't be as difficult as it seems, _I thought with a grim smile.

_A/N: And there you have it! My first ever fanfic chapter. Love it? Hate it? I'd love to hear any suggestions and comments! Please leave a review; it would mean the world to me. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

**Disclaimer: All hail Queen Jo! *bows* She is obviously far superior to me, for I write adaptions of _her _work. So yeah. It's all hers.  
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Honestly, if I heard Harry say one more thing about Draco Malfoy being a Death Eater I was going to explode. Ever since we saw him that day in Knockturn Alley, Harry wouldn't give it a rest. I knew he hated Malfoy—as did I—but really! Harry was being completely paranoid. There's no way You-Know-Who would make a sixteen-year-old a Death Eater.

Right now we were riding in the Ministry cars over to Platform 9 ¾. Everyone was taking extreme measures for Harry's protection. I knew it was important to keep him safe and everything, but I could tell it made Harry self-conscious and agitated; and frankly, it was affecting Ron and me as well.

There was no cheerful Hagrid waiting for us at King's Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking our group, marched us into the station without speaking. I felt like we were prisoners of war being led to the gallows by a couple of enemy soldiers. I mean, really. It was degrading.

"Quick, quick, through the barrier," said Mrs. Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. I certainly was. "Harry had better go first, with-"

She looked inquiringly at one of the Aurors, who nodded briefly, seized Harry's upper arm, and attempted to steer him toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"I can walk, thanks," said Harry irritably, jerking his arm out of the Auror's grip. He pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, ignoring his silent companion, and disappeared behind the barrier a second later.

I went next, walking briskly toward the seemingly solid brick barrier with my trolley ahead of me, and found myself, a moment later, standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd. The Weasleys joined Harry and me within seconds. Harry motioned to Ron and me to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment. I was about to comply when I remembered the prefect positions Ron and I now held.

"We can't, Harry," I said in an apologetic tone (although I was secretly glad that we wouldn't have to hear any more of his griping about Malfoy)."Ron and I've got to go to the prefects' carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit."

"Oh yeah, I forgot," said Harry.

"You'd better get straight on the train, all of you, you've only got a few minutes to go," said Mrs. Weasley, consulting her watch. "Well, have a lovely term, Ron..." She proceeded to grip her son in a tight embrace, and then turned to me as he started to board the scarlet engine.

"You too, Hermione dear," she said, stepping toward me with her arms outstretched. I returned her hug briefly, and after thanking her for her hospitality and saying goodbye, I followed Ron onto the train. Before I boarded, I noticed Harry talking in hushed tones to Ron's dad. Mr. Weasley's doubtful facial expression filled me with dread and exasperation as I was certain that Harry was discussing Malfoy with him. Really, what was Harry thinking? This was becoming rather embarrassing.

"Ronald, wait!" I called, hurrying behind him. He turned around and offered a hand to help me up. I took it, climbed aboard and whispered, "I think Harry's talking to your dad about Malfoy."

"Well," he sighed, rolling his eyes, "Maybe Dad can knock some sense in him." He didn't sound very convinced, though. "Come on, Hermione. We've got to go to the prefect's carriage." I quickly dropped the hand I realized was still in Ron's as he turned around and, blushing furiously, followed him to the compartment as he opened the door and walked in. I looked around at all the prefects who were already sitting, waiting for instruction. Only one prefect was missing— from Slytherin house.

_I wonder where Malfoy is_, I thought. Then I remembered that I couldn't care less where he was. Any time that I don't see Malfoy is a good one. But still… why wasn't he here?

**o-O-o  
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Aboard the Hogwarts Express, I was lying across two seats with my head in my girlfriend's lap while she played with my hair. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting on the opposite side of the compartment, and Zabini had left a while ago with some invitation from the new professor, Slughorn, to join him for lunch. I was supposed to be handling Slytherin prefect duties, but seeing as my only real directive this year had nothing to do with my education, I didn't really see the point.

No one in the compartment was really talking; Goyle was staring out the window, Crabbe was wrapped up in his comic book, and Pansy was obviously content with running her fingers through my hair. I had just about dozed off when the compartment door slid open and a tall black boy with high cheekbones and a haughty expression walked in. He turned around to shut the door, and he seemed to be having extreme difficulty.

"What's wrong with this thing?" said Zabini angrily as he smashed the sliding door repeatedly into what seemed to be an invisible stopper in the way of shutting it.

All of a sudden, the door flew wide open; Zabini, still clinging on to the handle, toppled over sideways into Goyle's lap. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of white in the air above Zabini's seat as Zabini and Goyle snarled at each other; just as soon as I saw it, it disappeared.

Before I really had time to register what I might've seen, Goyle slammed the door shut and flung Zabini off him; Zabini collapsed into his own seat looking ruffled, and Crabbe returned to his comic. I sniggered at the situation, and, momentarily dismissing the flash of white I'd seen, lay back down across two seats with my head in Pansy's lap, where she continued to stroke the sleek blond hair off my forehead.

"So, Zabini," I said, pushing my thoughts of Potter momentarily away, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," said Zabini, who was still glowering at Goyle. "Not that he managed to find many."

_What?_ What did he _mean_"well-connected" people? Surely the man just didn't know I was aboard. After all, my family was probably one of the most well respected pureblood families around.

"Who else had he invited?" I demanded.

"Collagen from Gryffindor," said Zabini.

"Oh yeah, his uncle's big in the Ministry," I said, thinking back to something my father had mentioned before.

"-someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw-"

"Not him, he's a prat!" blurted Pansy.

"-and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl," finished Zabini.

_WHAT_? I sat up very suddenly, knocking Pansy's hand aside. Who did this fodder think he was? Inviting _Longbottom_ and not _me_?

"He invited Longbottom?" I shouted, enraged.

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there," said Zabini indifferently.

How was no one else upset about this?

"What's Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?"

Zabini shrugged.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One," I said bitterly, recalling the other names he'd mentioned. "But that Weasley girl! What's so special about her?"

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy, "Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," spat Zabini, his face full of contempt.

Ha. Darn right. The only thing worse would be a Mudblood like Granger.

After hearing about the people Slughorn had taken an interest in, I tried to console myself by thinking that the man really was just stupid. I sank back across my girlfriend's lap and allowed her to resume the stroking of my hair.

"Well, I pity Slughorn's taste," I sneered. "Maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or-"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," said Zabini. "He asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Ministry he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters."

I fought the urge to punch Zabini in the face just then. I _hated _it when people talked rubbish on my father… especially when it was true. Really, no one understood what it was like, working for the Dark Lord. I forced out a singularly humorless laugh.

"Well, who cares what he's interested in? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher." I yawned ostentatiously. That whole ordeal had been rather embarrassing. Then I remembered that I might be able to use my new Death Eater status to save face. "I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?" said Pansy indignantly, her fingers going through my hair ceasing at once.

"Well, you never know," I said carefully. I had to make sure to be cautious about what I said. Not only were my friends not to know about this, but I wasn't sure that we were alone in the carriage. That flash could've been anything—including Potter with his Invisibility Cloak. "I might have—er—moved on to bigger and better things."

My words had the desired effect. Crabbe and Goyle were gawping; apparently they had had no inkling of any plans to move on to bigger and better things. As if they could if they wanted to. I was surprised they'd gotten this far through school. Even Zabini had allowed a look of curiosity to mar his haughty features.

_Victory! Respect has been re-earned_, I thought, smirk returning to my face. Pansy resumed the slow stroking of my hair.

"Do you mean—Him?" Her voice sounded awed and afraid. Just the way I liked it.

I shrugged, enjoying the suspense I was keeping them all in.

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it... When the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't... it'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him?" asked Zabini scathingly. "Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

Apparently, Zabini needed his ears cleaned. Idiot wasn't listening.

"I've just said, haven't I?" I said, beginning to lose patience. "Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for."

Crabbe and Goyle were both sitting with their mouths open like gargoyles. I knew Pansy was probably gazing down at me as though she had never seen anything so awe-inspiring.

"I can see Hogwarts," I said, relishing the effect I had created as I pointed out of the blackened window. "We'd better get our robes on."

We all started to get up, when something strange happened; Goyle reached up for his trunk, and as he swung it down, it stopped for a moment, as if by an invisible barrier… _like with the compartment door!_ I thought, remembering Zabini's earlier struggle. I heard what sounded like a sharp intake of breath—as if someone had suffered a blow. I squinted at the luggage rack, frowning; now I was sure that someone was there.

Deciding to pretend I hadn't noticed anything, I pulled on my robes like the others, locked my trunk, and as the train slowed to a jerky crawl, fastened my thick new traveling cloak round my neck.

With a final lurch, the train came to a complete halt. Goyle threw the door open and muscled his way out into a crowd of second years, punching them aside; Crabbe and Zabini followed.

"You go on," I told Pansy, who was waiting for me with her hand held out as though hoping I would hold it. _Public displays of affection._ I barely held back a shudder. _Gross._ "I just want to check something."

Pansy left. Now I was alone in the compartment... with whoever was hiding in the luggage rack… I would've put a bet on it being Potter. People were filing past, descending onto the dark platform. I moved over to the compartment door and let down the blinds, so that people in the corridor beyond could not peer in. I then bent down over my trunk and opened it again. My back to the seemingly empty luggage rack, I pulled out my wand. Potter would be caught totally off-guard.

I spun around too quickly for any reaction anyone could've had and pointed my wand at the luggage rack.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

I felt a rush of satisfaction as I watched the crouched figure of Harry Potter materialize and topple out of the luggage rack, falling with a floor-shaking crash, at my feet, the legendary Invisibility Cloak trapped beneath him, his whole body revealed with his legs curled absurdly into a cramped kneeling position. I smiled broadly.

"I thought so," I said jubilantly. "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back..." My eyes lingered for a moment upon Harry's trainers. That must've been the flash of white I'd seen. "That was you blocking the door when Zabini came back in, I suppose?"

I considered Potter a moment. At first, I thought about leaving him there to be found later and arrive at Hogwarts in humiliation… but then I remembered all the times he'd gotten away with things without punishment. I thought about the many times he'd made fun of me and my family, and that day in Diagon Alley when he insulted my father and mocked my mother. Hate and rage fired up inside me as I recounted the memory. I wouldn't let him get away with that.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I've got you here..."

And I stamped, hard, on Potter's face. Blood spurted everywhere.

_I must've broken his nose,_I thought, and I was filled with the sweet satisfaction of revenge.

"That's from my father. Now, let's see..."

I dragged the cloak out from under mnPotter's immobilized body and threw it over him.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train's back in London," I said quietly. "See you around, Potter... or not."

And taking care to tread on Potter's fingers, I left the compartment, and headed off the train.

I ran to catch one of the last thestral-drawn carriages leading to the castle and hopped inside.

_Serves him right_, I thought in bitter satisfaction as the carriage led me on my way to my most important—and possibly last—year at Hogwarts.

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_A/N There! Finally posted Chapter Two! I know it's not really interesting right now, and this and the first chapter are pretty much just abridged versions of chapters from HBD, but I can assure you, that will change. Oh, and if you leave reviews, I promise it will get better! ^_^ Don't hold back on constructive criticism and suggestions. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

A/N: Guys, I know it's been ages since I've updated. Seriously, it's been a half a year. I feel terrible. ON THE UPSIDE, I have recently taken a fantastic writing class and actually have a plot thought out for this story now. Therefore, I will be updating more frequently, especially since winter holiday is coming up and I have nothing better to do. Again, I apologise profusely for my neglect, but I am back, effective immediately. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Jo rules all.**

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As I lay in my familiar Hogwarts dormitory bed after the sorting, a million thoughts were running through my head. When Harry wasn't already in the Great Hall after Ron and I got there, I had begun to grow worried- but that was nothing compared to how I felt when he did finally enter. I had seen him covered in blood, but usually I knew why! Harry insisted on waiting to tell us, but I could tell from the look in his eye that it had something to do with Malfoy. He had a certain hatred that only came with mentioning Voldemort, Snape, Bellatrix Lestrange, or Malfoy. Since it couldn't possibly be Bellatrix Lestrange or Voldemort, and I honestly could not see a school professor doing something like that to a student, the obvious conclusion was that it had been the despicable ferret. On top of all that, my stomach lurched at the memory of Dumbledore's ashen hand, the prospect of Hagrid finding out that his three favorite students weren't taking his class anymore, and Snape as a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. All these thoughts were whirling in my mind until I felt so nauseous I had to sit up. With the moon casting soft beams onto my scarlet bed sheets, my mind started to clear, and I realized I would have to do something to put my mind at ease. Someone rational (meaning not the obsessive-compulsive Harry) needed to get to the bottom of this Malfoy business. And Ron surely wasn't going to do anything.

**o-O-o**

I bolted upright in my four-poster bed to the sound of a scream. After a few shaky moments I realised it had been my own scream, and I was drenched in a cold sweat. I brought a trembling hand to my face and pushed back all the hair that was sticking to my dripping forehead. I had that nightmare again. That beast, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I was starting to think it was real and not some sort of horrific fantasy my mind had conjured on its own. Pulling my covers away, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and propelled myself to my feet. I trudged over to the washroom and turned on the sink, dousing my face in a cold splash of water. I turned off the water and bowed my head over the sink basin.

_What is _wrong_ with me?  
_

Suddenly, I heard a noise come from the common room and my head jerked up in alarm. I caught a glimpse of my reflection right as I cocked my head toward the sound. I really did not look like my usual self. I looked how I felt—sickly and terrified. My thoughts were interrupted by that same muffled disturbance coming from the floor below. I pushed all other thoughts out of my mind as I turned to snatch my wand from my bedside table and headed downstairs to find the source of the noise I had heard. I was glad to have a distraction from my tortured subconscious.

Deftly making my way down the stairs, I restrained myself from igniting my wand and forced myself to squint into the darkness; In the case of an intruder, I didn't want him to know I was there. When I reached the floor of the common room, I noticed that whoever was supposed to put out the fire had forgotten because the soft green glow emanating from the enchanted flames still illuminated the room very dimly.

_Probably some daft house-elf, _I thought._ Really, those creatures are hopeless sometimes._

As I strained to see if I could make out anyone in the vast, poorly lit room, I inched my way over to block the exit, so as to cut off any means of escape the potential invader might have had. Admittedly, I felt a bit foolish, knowing very well that the noise could've been the fire popping or a house elf apparating. No matter; I wasn't taking any chances.

I had been standing in front of the entrance to the outside corridor for quite a while, and was just about to give up and attempt to sleep when I heard the sound of a cloak across something dry and crisp. My eyes immediately darted to a copy of The Daily Prophet that was lying on the floor, and it indeed moved slightly with the sound of the rustling.

_Busted again, Potter._

I quickly pointed my wand to the spot above the paper, knowing that he couldn't have moved far from it without me noticing, and whispered the same immobilising spell I had cast on the train earlier, "Petrificus Totalus!"

As soon as I heard the satisfying clunk of my archenemy's frozen body against the dungeon floor, I reignited the Slytherin common room lamps, casting the room in a slightly brighter greenish glow.

"One would think you'd have learned your lesson, Potter," I said gleefully, crossing over to where his immobilised frame rested. I crouched over the spot where part of Potter's pyjama pants was exposed and reached to remove his precious cloak so I could see the pathetic look on his paralysed mug.

"Or was a broken nose not enough for — _Granger?_"

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A/N: Ah, I'm still pathetically predictable. :) Expect great things, though, dear readers, and they will soon emerge. ESPECIALLY if you **_review._**_  
_I look forward to reading your suggestions, criticisms, hate mail, love mail, etc. Until next time, dear readers!


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: I decided to update quickly to make up for all those months of inactivity. (This has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that final exams are this week and I am the queen of procrastination, especially when it comes to revising.)

Extra special thanks to GodsOfEgypt09 for being the first to review since I've returned!

**Disclaimer: All thing Potter belong to the Rowling Queen.**

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"_Granger?_ But… How? That's Potter's cloak! And besides, how'd you know the password?" I started to grow even angrier because of her lack of response, until I realised she was still in my Body-Bind Curse. "Oh, right. _Finite Incantantum_," I muttered, before stowing my wand in my pyjama pants pocket. "Now explain, Mudblood, before I call Filch."

The Mudblood narrowed her eyes in contempt as she glowered into my face.

"I'm not saying anything until you get off me, Malfoy."

"Fine, then."

I hadn't noticed that I had one hand on her shoulder, pinning her to the ground, until she said something. I guess I had lost my balance in surprise and fallen a bit. Regardless, I pushed back into a sitting position, and she did likewise.

"Look, Malfoy," Granger started, brushing that frizzy mop of hair out of her eyes, "I know that you—" Suddenly she stopped short and her eyes widened. That's when I remembered that I slept with my shirt off. I smirked.

"What, like what you see, Granger?" I sneered. Then I noticed where her eyes had stopped.

Directly at my left forearm.

_Bollocks! What do I do now?_

Granger started to say something, but I covered her mouth with my left hand and grabbed her arm with the other, dragging us both to our feet. I lowered my lips right to Granger's ear and spoke in a treacherous whisper.

"Say anything to anyone, and I will personally see to it that your death is painful, slow, and _very soon_."

I twisted Granger's arm behind her back and led her into the farthest corner of the room. I couldn't risk anyone discovering us. I pushed her against the wall with the hand that I'd been silencing her with, then drew my wand and held it to her throat.

"Now, explain: what are you doing here?"

"I knew you had something to do with Harry being covered in blood, okay? Get off of me, Malfoy!" I tried to relish in the panicked sound of the Mudblood's voice, but somehow it only made matters worse, seeing as I myself was panicked beyond belief.

"Fine," I relinquished my hold on her and stowed my wand once again in my pocket. "And, yes, I broke Potter's nose," I said, smiling slightly at the sweetly vengeful memory. I turned my attention back to the current matter. "But how did you get in here?"

"Oh, please," Granger replied, sounding more like her usual know-it-all self as she smoothed her disheveled clothes. "I _am_ a school prefect, after all. I have my ways, and so do you."

_Touché.  
_

"And Potter's cloak?"

"Simple. I nicked it from under his bed."

_Of course. Potter _would_ be so thick as to hide his only possession of value in such an obvious place._

__"And what do you think will stop me from telling the authorities about you?" Granger continued, snapping me out of my reverie. "If you kill me now, all you will do is raise suspicion. No one at this school hates me more than you do," she finished matter-of-factly.

That bloody wench had a fair point. So I decided to be honest, or at least tell my story in the best possible way.

"Okay, look. So my father got thrown into Azkaban right? Then the Dark Lord decides that this makes me an early successor to my father's position, and brands me with his mark and an impossible mission. So now I'm this inside man at Hogwarts, sent to carry out my master's wishes."

Granger just gaped at me with her mouth ajar and her eyes as wide as saucers.

"And… what's your mission?" She squeaked, trying and miserably failing to appear calm. I snorted.

"Right, like I'm telling you, Mudblood. It's none of your business"

"Of course, you're right," Granger sighed, wriggling away and walking toward the exit.

Wait, _what? _Granger admitted I'm right? There had to be a catch—

"I'll just head up to the headmaster's office and inform Professor Dumbledore of your little… predicament."

Merlin, that witch really was the brightest of her age. Not that I'd ever admit that. I blew out the air I didn't know I was keeping pent up inside me.

"Granger, stop," I said, spinning around and grabbing her arm in order to prevent her from leaving. Her eyes flashed warningly down where my hand gripped her arm and for some reason I responded to the menacing look in her eye and dropped my hold on her. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot in a very Granger-esque way.

"Well?" she pressed.

I hesitated. Granger raised her eyebrows expectantly.

I looked at me feet. "I… I—" I forced myself to look straight into Granger's eyes as I finished, "I have been ordered to kill Dumbledore."

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A/N: This chapter was kind of rushed, so I look forward to your suggestions and constructive criticism! Don't hold back. :D  
Love always,  
Califred Malfoy


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